I remember when…
I remember zen…
While the original intent of this exercise of “an hour at a time” didn’t have the staying power I had hoped for, I don’t consider that a failure.
It looked good on paper. And I’m a paper-kind-of-gal. A list crosser-offer, an itemizer-organizer, a collector of ideas, a can-do riveter of dreams. A pursuer of goals.
Along the way I hear how counterproductive all this is. From sources I have great respect for, even awe. And I get it, truly. Yet…
Funny, how many blogs are out there with the word “zen” in them, or with zen as a premise. While the earnest truths imparted reach out to fellow travelers as guide posts to redirect or encourage, if I read them all I’d have to go into some kind of deep zen-cleanse.
Instead, I read the few I’ve become attached to. It might not be always for the message, though that usually resonates. What I find I seek connection with is the human spirit behind the message. The person who is struggling, who stumbles and soars, and stumbles again. The person who is seeking equilibrium each and every day. The human face behind the zen mask. The person who falls down seven times and gets up eight. Otherwise, I’m afraid it’s just rhetoric.
I am reacquainting myself with one such person. Me. I thought I had evolved, having descended into a personal sink hole and somehow emerging on a higher plane with clearer vision, or at least better binoculars. I recently found evidence of that struggle on the back shelf of a closet, in the form of a collection of writings. Short essays. A few stabs at poetry. I reread it all, almost as if it were for the first time, remembering who I was and where I had been.
The first decade of the new millennium was a time of my life for goals to perish in their pointlessness, as I sought simply to put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t have a goal, but I experienced life in real time, in-the-moment, almost as if I had no other choice. And I wrote about it. Why? Because I needed to. In doing so, I not only survived, but part of me thrived.
The result is Back To My Senses.
The soon-to-be-released book is a goal nearly achieved, that never set out as a goal on paper. Funny how things turn out.
Now, back to the beginning.